mine.
I opened it.
A pearl-and-diamond necklace glittered beneath the hallway light.
Delicate, expensive, precisely the jewelry Cole preferred women to wear beside him.
A receipt lay underneath.
Five handwritten words appeared across its top.
To Sierra — Christmas Eve.
I sank onto the floor.
The babies cried nearby while Christmas lights reflected in the diamonds.
I’d never felt more foolish.
Cole questioned nearly everything I purchased.
Once, he demanded an explanation for an $87 increase in our grocery bill.
He’d made me return an expensive cashmere baby blanket from Mother,
